I'm back home again trying to process the thoughts and emotions of the past three days. It was great to see the family again. My brother-in-law sold his house and is in the process of emptying it. We went there before we went to my nephew's house where I was staying. When I walked into the house, I was blindsided by overwhelming grief. The house smelled like my sister. I understand people who keep clothing of loved ones who have passed on so they can have the smell. I felt her presence there. That's the first time I have felt her presence since she died, and I have been wanting to. That was the sweet part.
The sad part was to see what was left of her stuff - her furniture, her pictures, her linens, in the half empty house. I had to go in every room, but I could hardly bear doing it. There they were, all the things that she had accumulated, some of which no one in the family really wanted but felt bad about giving away.
My brother-in-law, my nephew and his wife welcomed me and treated me wonderfully well. But Kansas City is where my sister is supposed to be, and she was not there. Saturday was a busy day, and that evening, we had the dinner and the party for the winners of the scholarships. But Sunday was a quiet day. My nephew had to work; his wife had errands to run, and my brother-in-law went back to the house to organize what was left. I could not go to the house with him. I missed my sister so much on Sunday.
Sunday evening, my nephew and his wife barbecued and served a wonderful meal for us and her brother and his wife. Afterwards they went swimming, and my brother-in-law and I had a good long talk, which made me feel much better.
What a weekend of intense emotion! I feel drained since I've been home, empty and very sad.
This morning, Barbara Crafton had a meditation on how life goes on after death--and the joy and pain that love brings us. If you aren't signed up for her daily e-mails, I think you would enjoy them. Just go to www.geraniumfarm.org.
ReplyDeleteI will say a special prayer for you and your sister today, Mimi. I hope you can feel her presence again, in a way that brings you solace.
A big hug to you, Mimi. Your pain is in proportion to the love you felt and feel. Love and prayers, Jane.
ReplyDeleteOh Grandmère Mimi...I'm no good at this stuff so I'll just second what Doxy and Jane R. have said.
ReplyDeleteAnd for goodness sake, don't let any blogging clerics piss you off today.
Others have said it better than I could. Hugs and prayers, sisters are so very special. Cherish the memories of yours.
ReplyDeleteDear Grandmere Mimi,
ReplyDeleteI remember cleaning out my mother's things when she died. I had no trouble with it, for some reason. But then my dad died, right after Easter, six years later. That was much worse. I found his dock shoes in the closet. I desperately needed a new pair of shoes and because seminary was so expensive, I had no money for them. I slipped on my dad's shoes, and they fit. I still have them. I can't throw them away, even though they are no longer wearable.
Be gentle with yourself this day and in the coming days. Know we love you very much and hold you in virtual hugs and in real prayers. God bless you, Grandmere.
Lois Keen
(((((Mimi)))))
ReplyDeleteEmpty and sad -- I think that we all need that from time-to-time, as it makes us prepared to be filled-up, which, of course, is completely a God thing.
Peace of Christ
Chere Grandmere,
ReplyDeleteIt was just two years ago that I had to clean out my mother's house. What brought me up short as well was the fragrance of her perfume. Cherish the memories and know that your sister continues to live on inside everyone she touched.
((((mimi))))
JP
Just know that I am holding you in thought and prayer, and also your dear sister.
ReplyDeleteThanks, all of you. Your comments and hugs and prayers mean a lot to me.
ReplyDeleteDoxy, I'm going to check out that web site.
PJ, I already let the blogging cleric piss me off, and I took my grief out on him. Not nice.
KJ, I believe you are right. I'm waiting for the God-filling-up thing.
To all: hugs and kisses back and much gratitude for the prayers.
Here's one more belated hug for you.
ReplyDelete{{{{Mimi}}}}
Bittersweet is the word, isn't it? Prayers ascend, my dear. Daily.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Mike, The Lonesome Cowboy.
ReplyDeleteElizabeth, my dear, thank you. My prayers are with you, also.
((Mimi)))
ReplyDeleteI'm praying for you,too.
Grace.
Mimi,
ReplyDeleteI am told that the sense of smell can dredge up memories the most profound. I am that with the smell of fresh baked bread bring the picture of my grandmother to me. Savor that whiff of you sister;live into the memories and give thanks. You are in my prayers, dear friend.
Grace, thank you.
ReplyDeleteMuthah+, it must have been the smell. Whatever. The whole weekend was filled with powerful emotions, which I am still processing. Thank you for the prayers, too.
Hugs and prayers, dear Mimi.
ReplyDeleteMimi, Thoughts, prayers and big hugs from many who love you and those who loved your sister.
ReplyDeleteMarilyn
Lots and lots of hugs, Mimi.
ReplyDelete(((Grandmère Mimi))) Prayers and love from here, too.
ReplyDeleteI'm very fortunate that my parents are still alive, but it has been years since I've been able to be with them, and I miss that touch, too.
But Mom comes close to me a lot--I can hear her voice in me, catch her scent in a simple thing--Jergens original cherry almond. And I can see my Dad in the smile of my son and them both in the quick wits of my daughter.
Fond memory and the memories of our senses are blessings--I'm glad they are helping you through the bittersweet time. --sheila--
I wasn't lonesome enough last night, Mimi. Harley made sure I was just as miserable as he was during a thunderstorm.
ReplyDeleteYou can check up on Ed HERE. His assistant is doing this blog. They're the ones at the far right in the photo ... with red sleeves peeking out.
Lonesome Cowboy
Sending up my own brand of foppish intercessions for both MP and GM from the road...you two have made me feel so welcome here in Blogland, it is truly the least I can do. Now, in strict obedience to the directive issued by my newfound spiritual director, MP, I am off to the hot tub in my hotel to have cocktails and (hopefully) flirt with a few scantily clad businessmen.
ReplyDeleteTomorrow, the family visit begins...
*offers many hugs*
ReplyDeleteI still have one of my dad's old flannel shirts. I hardly ever wear it, because it's beat to hell, but I won't ever get rid of it, either.
That was a very moving post, Grandmère Mimi. Yes, smells are truly powerful and are connected to emotion in a very direct way.
ReplyDeleteSending you love and the assurance of my prayers.
Grandmere Mimi, you beautifully described your sister's home and your missing her. How lovely to feel and smell her presence. They say smell brings back memories better than any other sense. I'm glad you had that. Bittersweet, but still sweet. Love and prayers for you.
ReplyDeleteJohnieb, Marilyn, Cynthia, Sheila, QFC, Kate, Ellie, and Jan, you folks overwhelm me with your love and caring and prayers. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteMike, Ed aparece muy simpatico.
QFC, what is a foppish intercession? Whatever. I'll take any intercession. God bless you with your family visit.
Cleaning out the house is such a bummer! Mom died a year ago. I'm getting rid of stuff to make room to remodel my house. I brought home stuff I couldn't bear to throw out. Now I'm facing that again. My thoughts and prayers are with you.
ReplyDeleteAnd mine with you, Pseudo.
ReplyDeleteToday as I was getting into the bathtub, I burst out crying, saying - to God, I guess, "It's not right! It's not fair! My sister is gone! My best friend is gone! She was younger than I am. My two younger sisters are gone. I am the eldest. This is not the way it's supposed to be."
I may have said the words out loud; I'm not really sure. My emotions are all over the place today.
I'm not worried that God can't take my outbursts. If anyone can, God can.
What a strange day.
Mimi, when my grandpa died, I could not bear to get rid of his flannel shirts for over a year, because they still smelled like him. What made matters worse was one time I opened the closet door and his dog came up to the closet, sniffed, and with a faraway look on his face, started wagging his tail.
ReplyDeleteAt that instant, I realized what I was feeling was not just in my head but was very, very real. I am normally very stoic but that was too much for me. Just know that others have been there, and we share your ache.
Kirkepiscatoid, thank you. So it's the dogs, too. We are not crazy - or at least not too crazy.
ReplyDeleteThanks for dropping in and for the kind words.
that was a tough visit you took. Glad to hear you are home. Be nice to yourself for the next few days.
ReplyDeleteThis is a beautiful post, Grandmere Mimi. Grief may make us feel crazy, but it is not in itself crazy, not crazy at all. Just hard. Please take care of yourself. I'm just another stranger thinking of you.
ReplyDeleteI think you know why I can very much relate, right now. I can offer no answer, but merely the knowledge that we are sharing that experience and understand one another the better for it.
ReplyDeleteMuch love, Mimi.
Mimi -- I've been out of town but want to send prayers and hugs your way as well...you mourn because you are/were so connected. Once I heard a quote, "To grieve for someone is to pay them a great compliment."
ReplyDeletetake care...
Dennis, Terri, Mark, Diane, thanks for the prayers and kind words.
ReplyDeleteMark, I grieve with you. My love to you and your family.
Ah, Grandmère, this is a very familiar experience for me. My dad not having moved a stitch of my mother's clothing, I can still walk into her closet and smell her there.
ReplyDeletePrayers for you, friend.
Mags
Mags, thanks. It's amazing to me that the sense of smell can give rise to such powerful emotions.
ReplyDeleteGM, I can personally relate several times over; every time the griefs like new. Pax et bonum, & heartfelt prayers to the skies.
ReplyDeleteBill
Smell is a powerful evocateur, really.
ReplyDeleteThe story about the dog's tail wagging when the closet was opened got to me, I'm sitting here crying for all of you/us now.
((((Mimi)))))
It isn't fair - and I'm sorry.